


MAYFLY, A Fleeting Story

by tangerinecoffee



Category: Winner (Band)
Genre: Experimental Style, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 17:32:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11514120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangerinecoffee/pseuds/tangerinecoffee
Summary: Minho forgets who Taehyun is.





	MAYFLY, A Fleeting Story

 

 

 

The day I let go of him – was on a rainy Sunday afternoon. The pavement smelt of asphalt and the air filled with soot. 

I remembered him smiling the same smile he once reserved for me, when he talked about her.

That afternoon I realized – 

 

That he wasn’t mine anymore.

 

And that he’ll never be again.

 

 

 

**MAYFLY  
  - a fleeting story **

 

 

  
The last news I heard about him was that he already married. Living somewhere near the busy streets of Seoul and that he has two sons, now age two and three. 

Since I left the hospital that day, I buried myself in work and traveled everywhere my feet could take me. I’ve had a few relationships, but none of them lasted. 

I’ve visited Sweden and Germany and London and met hundreds of interesting individuals…

But I never had a day without him crossing my mind. 

Stupidly foolish. 

Pathetic even.

And I always blamed myself for it.

 

 

Minho was a childhood friend. We grew up in the same neighborhood and would often play together. We discovered wonders together. Watched our favorite shows together. We had our own world.

When we were teenagers, he drifted away from me – to new friends and new territories and to playing with girls. When we were teenagers I preferred staying at home, watching documentaries and reading. Sometimes, I’ll travel new territories as well and play with boys. 

When Minho found out about my sexuality, I expected him to push me away. It wasn’t normal for a boy to like another boy, and I’ve already had my fair share of people leaving because of what I am.

But Minho didn’t. In fact, he started to spend more time with me when he found out. I thought it was nice. That he had come back to my side. But I sometimes found it not fun because he’ll always fend off potential courters. 

When we were to graduate high school, and we both just broke things off with our latest flings, I woke up to bronze skin and disheveled blankets. I realized that I had done it with Minho. Booze didn’t help to heal our broken hearts, and we sought comfort in each other. I briefly panicked that it might break something more precious than any relationship I ever had –

My friendship with Minho. 

So I pretended that night didn’t happen and went about how I usually acted around Minho. 

On our graduation day though, he trapped me in the school gardens, away from the ceremony and told me he was sober then.

That he knew about that night. And that he doesn’t regret it.

 

That he’ll never regret it. 

 

We started dating in the last year of our universities. I found universities to be more forgiving. Aside from the fact that we were freer since we were away from home, many were supportive and open about it. 

There was a time when he suddenly pulled me out of my classroom and led me to a makeshift arch behind the university statue, with a friend of ours waiting, dressed in what seemed like a holy bandana, complete with a prop math book in his hands. A few others were also there, congratulating us on _our wedding day._

I laughed at this but enjoyed the thought.

 

“You may now kiss! Just not so torridly please!”

“What are you laughing about?”

“Nothing. I’m just happy.”

“Heh… Me too. One day, I will take you to a real church. And we’ll get married.”

 

And he slid the simple gold band on my ring finger. 

 

That was our first year anniversary. The happiest day I can recall too.  
 

It wasn’t as hard to love Minho then.

 

 

 

When we finished our courses, we decided to move in together. Our families didn’t know anything about us yet, but Minho wanted to tell them already. I was against it at first because I wasn’t ready yet but Minho insisted and convinced me that the sooner they know, the easier it’ll be for us. 

So on the day of my birthday I told my mother I’ll be coming home with Minho. 

Minho suddenly had an overtime work then and told me to go to the station first and wait for him there. 

I did.

But he never came to the station. 

 

“Hello?”

“Are you a friend of the owner of this phone?”

“…Yes, I am.”

“He’s in ASAN, he was in a traffic accident.”

 

Minho didn’t wake up for a month. He was in a coma for a month and we never had the chance to tell anyone about us. His family was there, and every time they asked me to go home and that it was okay for me to not be there, that it wasn’t my fault, all I can reason with was:

 

“He’s my best friend. I need to be here.”

 

And it was the hardest to deny who I was to him and him to me. 

 

It was hard to deny yourself of something you want to hold unto so tightly. Because you know it’s yours, but you still can’t claim it.

Minho was that to me. He was mine, I was his, but no one knew but us.

 

I had a tough time at work, focusing on anything else when my mind is on another place made me inefficient and ineffective. 

 

“Taehyun, he’s awake! But there are… some problems…”

 

 

  
“It’s called retrograde amnesia. He can’t remember his most recent memories. It’s often just momentarily, exposing him to his usual surrounding before the incident should cure it immediately.”

 

When he was discharged from the hospital, Minho’s family left him to my care, troubling me, they say, because of the memories Minho held with me and the past years we were together. I took the responsibility without any question.

Minho seemed to remember me – until our high school graduation. I explained to him that we graduated university. That we decided to live together. He asked me why, and I said:

 

“Because – because we’re friends.”

 

I could’ve told him back then but I didn’t. I was afraid it would affect him negatively. 

I convinced myself that it would just be a matter of time anyway, and that Minho would remember me. 

 _Soon,_ I told myself as I glanced at the gold ring on my finger.

Soon.

 

 

Soon Minho moved out and started to live with his girlfriend. It took me by surprise, especially that he never mentioned anything about it. 

He was all flushed and all-smiles, happy and giggling with joy as he told me:

 

“I proposed to her! We’re getting married!”

 

I didn’t know what happened. 

It was too fast. I didn’t know what was happening. 

I watched Minho shut the door after thanking me for taking care of him. 

 

I visited the hospital and asked them about Minho’s condition. 

 

“In rare cases, the memories never come back.”

 

His memories of me never returned.

 

And so did he. 

 

 

The next I heard from Minho was when he sent me an invitation to his wedding. 

I’ve cried enough and decided that the last thing I needed was to see Minho again, in the same altar he promised he’ll take me one day. It was foolish when I think of it now but back then I was… really hoping for it to be true. 

But it was impossible now. 

Because now I am just a friend he could not remember. 

   

I moved out of the apartment.

I deleted every picture we had.

Every letter.

I even changed my number. 

And I threw the ring away. I can’t remember when and where, but that was for the better.

 

I buried everything that could prove of what we were before. 

  
His family never knew. My family never knew. No harm was done. Minho was living his comfortable life.

_So much for “No harm was done.”_

 

I laughed at myself and cried again after.

 

 

 

On a Monday, as I was getting ready for work, someone knocked on my door and I opened it without much thought. 

There in my foyer, was Song Minho. 

He had his faint smile painted across his face as he looked at me after three years of never seeing each other. 

Song Minho was here. 

In front of me.

 

“Taehyun?”

“Minho.”

“…Can – can we talk?”

“Talk?”

“Yeah, okay. About what?”

“About us.”

“Us?”

“We were – together.”

“Together? Living together once yes.”

“No, I mean… together.”

“...?”

“I mean me… in love with you.”

 

 

I never get to work that Monday. 

 

 

 

\-------------------------------- E N D  

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is an experimental one shot, with a first person POV and dialogues only. It’s meant for the reader to fill in the blanks, imagine how the situation plays out.
> 
> It’s a risk but please tell me what you think about it :>


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